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Chapter 85: Dressed To Be Punished
Gianna’s POV
Darkness swallowed everything, and I lay there staring up at nothing, my eyes wide open. I couldn’t close them. Couldn’t get over the fear crawling up my spine like cold fingers.
My thoughts raced, wild. What if I fell asleep and he came back? What if he slit my throat while I was unconscious, helpless? My hand went instinctively to my throat, fingers pressing against the pulse there.
Or maybe he’d strangle me……. squeeze until there was nothing left.
Fear ate at me from the inside out, gnawing at my chest, my brain.
Or he could just shoot me, quick and easy.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the thoughts away. If he wanted to do it, he would have done it already. He’d had so many chances. In the basement when I was tied to that chair. Just now when we were completely alone.
I repeated it over and over, trying to make myself believe it. If he wanted me dead, I’d already be dead. After fighting off sleep for what felt like hours, my body finally gave in. Exhaustion dragged me under, and I slept.
A hand shook my shoulder. “Gianna. Gianna, wake up.”
I jolted awake with a gasp, my heart pounding violently in my chest.
“No…….. please!” I gasped, flinching back.
“Easy, easy now,” a gentle voice said. “It’s alright.”
My eyes flew open, wild with panic. Someone was standing over me. I scrambled backward, my back slamming against the headboard, my hands coming up defensively.
“Shh, calm down, dear. It’s just me. It’s Grace.”
I rubbed my eyes, my vision clearing. Grace stood beside the bed, her expression concerned.
“Grace,” I breathed, my body sagging with relief.
“I’m sorry for disrupting your sleep,” she apologized, her hands raised slightly as if to show me she meant no harm. “But the boss said you’ve been sleeping all day, and I needed to check on you.”
All day? How long had I been out?
I glanced toward the window. Late afternoon light filtered through the curtains.
Then it all came crashing back like a tidal wave……. last night, the rope burns on my wrists, the escape attempt that failed so spectacularly, Dante’s terrifying silence and tenderness as he cleaned my wounds and put me to bed with that cryptic statement…… “Tonight you sleep.”
“He also instructed me to get you ready,” Grace added.
My brows drew together. “Ready for what?”
She straightened slightly, her expression neutral. “I’m only following orders, dear. I wasn’t told the reason.”
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Chapter 8 Dreswa To Be Punished
I nodded, understanding flooding through me even as terror tightened around my throat. Dante did what he wanted. No one questioned him. Not even Grace.
I stood on shaking legs. If he was sending for me now, was it to punish me? Was this when it would happen? Grace helped me out of bed and led me to the bathroom. I showered quickly.
When I stepped out, wrapped in a towel, Grace was waiting eagerly. On the bed lay a silk gown, deep wine–red, trimmed with lace along the neckline and hem. The fabric was soft, almost weightless. The bra was cut to lift and shape, leaving little to the imagination, while the panties were so small they barely qualified as clothing. Draped over it all was a sheer robe, beautiful but utterly useless for modesty.
I stood there, torn between amazement and disbelief, my fingers brushing the delicate fabric. “What……. what is this?”
“This is what Don ordered you to dress in.”
My lips parted, but I didn’t know what to say. “Why would he…” I stopped myself. Dante didn’t like being questioned. Grace was only doing what she was told.
I’d already caused enough trouble. I wasn’t about to make things worse by refusing now.
I swallowed hard and took it. “Fine.”
When I slipped into it, the fabric slid like water against my skin, exposing more than it covered. Standing in front of the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My dark hair fell loose in soft waves, my face bare, my skin pale.
The bruise from last night had healed slightly, a tiny plaster still visible above my eyebrow.
The gown clung to my body, outlining every curve. My breasts lifted slightly under the fabric, my nipples faintly visible through the lace.
I felt almost naked.
I looked like someone else…….. someone meant to tempt or please, not someone terrified of what was coming.
Why did he want me dressed like this? What did he plan to do?
I noticed Grace had gone quiet, her usual warmth replaced by something colder, more distant.
It hit me then. She was upset because I’d tried to escape. Everyone surely hated me because I’d betrayed their trust and gotten them all in trouble.
“I know you’re upset with me,” I said quietly, turning to face her, “You hate me, I’m sure.”
Grace looked at me for a long moment. “Upset? I don’t have a right to be. But hate? I don’t.”
“Of course you do,” I insisted, guilt twisting in my gut. “I betrayed everyone. I got you all in trouble. I…”
Grace sighed, her expression softening but still stern. “You made things harder for all of us. The Don is angry. The house is tense. And that man you attacked…….. he’s gone now. It didn’t have to be this way, Gianna. Why did you have to run? Everything could have worked out.”
“How?” I asked, frustration bleeding into my fear. “You’re all looking out for each other, but I had to look out for me. This isn’t some fairytale for me. I wanted out. Forgive me for that.”
Grace’s eyes softened, though her tone stayed firm. “But that didn’t work out, did it? Instead, it cost a man his job, and everyone else their peace.”
Chapter 35 bressed to Be Punished
Guilt washed through me. I looked down, my voice breaking, “I’m sorry, Grace. For everything
“I’m not the one who needs to hear this.” She straightened, her expression closing off. “Don hates to be kept waiting.”
I looked at myself in the mirror one more time. My thoughts raced with fear. What did Dante have planned? Why this? Why now?
Grace led me through the house, down hallways I’d never been through before. We walked until we reached a part of the mansion I’d never seen. She stopped at a heavy wooden door.
“Where is this place?” I asked, my voice shaking with fear. “What is this?”
Grace simply replied, “Don is waiting inside.”
I had a dozen questions burning on my tongue, but I knew I wouldn’t get answers from her. Not about this.
My hands reached for the door handle, trembling so badly I could barely grip it.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
